Tonight hundreds of people in San Francisco joined millions all over the world in sadness, and commemoration of the journalists who died.
We sang the Marseillaise, hummed the Ode to Joy, held pens in the air like the peaceful weapons they are.
Some faces twisted in what looked like an effort to keep back tears.
At the moment it does not seem enough, but what else do we have?
Except to rise again in the morning and write, and draw, again.
